


Multifaceted Illness

by unepical



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Kamukura Izuru Has Feelings, Komaeda Nagito As The Servant, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, M/M, Mental Instability, Nonbinary Kamukura Izuru, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unepical/pseuds/unepical
Summary: It had been almost a year since Enoshima’s demise, Servant had been travelling with Kamukura for ten of those precious months.Though, perhaps this was not such a precious time. Servant hadn’t thought it possible, seeing the Ultimate Hope themselves truly shouldn’t be capable of having such a weakness, but Kamukura was sick.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86





	Multifaceted Illness

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was unwell. I have a compromised immune system (and multiple health issues aaa) and I get sick a lot so it's never hard to find inspiration for these sorts of fics (i dont post most of them. lmao). I'm not too sure if the writing is good because I was pretty jacked up on meds and couldn't breathe right but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> CW: Fairly graphic descriptions of Nagito's junko hand, graphic descriptions of illness and injury.

It had been almost a year since Enoshima’s demise, Servant had been travelling with Kamukura for ten of those precious months. 

Though, perhaps this was not such a precious time. Servant hadn’t thought it possible, seeing the Ultimate Hope themselves truly shouldn’t be capable of having such a weakness, but Kamukura was sick. 

The inklings of it had started with an exceptionally well hidden cold, but had quite rapidly progressed into a fever, Servant noticing the copious amounts of heat emanating from the other. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t wanted to, out of fear that his judgements were wrong, because _surely_ they weren’t ill. It shouldn’t be something that could happen. 

Unfortunately, it was something that very much _did_ happen, and Servant was the only person to witness it, blinking in surprise as Kamukura tried and failed to get out of bed, knees buckling and sweat beading on their forehead. 

“Kamukura-san?” Servant asked from his usual position at the foot of the bed (where he _insisted_ on staying. The other had offered for him to sleep elsewhere, but Servant had declined), “Are you unwell?”

“...” Only silence. Not uncommon, nothing unheard of, but truthfully, the white-haired man needed an answer. Sadly, seeing that flushed face confirmed enough. 

“... May I take your temperature?” Servant asked hesitantly

“There is no need.” Kamukura dismissed, voice awfully thick, red eyes still sharp as ever “Medicine” 

A request. Servant stood up, nodding and going to their belongings, fishing out some of the painkillers. They’d stockpiled this for Servant, for the inevitable swings of bad luck that he still had. The fact the two had to carry such medicine simply added to the uselessness of Kamukura’s so-called personal attendant. As if they couldn’t do every single megre task Servant did themselves. The thin man didn’t know what to think of it, though the fact he was still around had seemed to have paid off, if it meant he could assist and help the Ultimate Hope during a time such as this. His selfish desires of wishing to fulfill a role being quenched.

Handing a glass of water and various medicines to the other, Servant sat down expectantly beside the bed. Kamukura was not wearing the typical black suit jacket, but instead was wearing the white button down underneath, tie missing and the first few buttons undone. Servant tried his hardest to not look past a passing glance, inwardly sneering at himself for having such disgusting, carnal impulses. 

The other’s face was nearly drenched with sweat, which made Servant consider getting them something cool, if it were lying around. The times where the other had to nurse the white-haired boy back to health, they had done that for him. It had been the only times they had formally touched or made any kind of physical contact. Kamukura mostly avoided it at most costs, even going as far as ducking out of the way when people tried to touch them. Servant truly couldn’t blame them- getting the filth of those with infinitely less talent and hope even coming within the vicinity of Kamukura making Servant sick. He couldn’t fathom how Kamukura would feel. 

Not much, if Servant were to be honest with himself. Kamukura, by a general definition, did not care. 

“Forgive me for speaking, but may I ask a question?” Servant inquired, tilting a head of fluffy hair to the side 

“Mm.” Kamukura replied listlessly, sighing deeply and closing their eyes.

“How are you sick?”

Another sigh, “Medical experimentation had adverse effects on this body. Weakened immune system being one of them.” The words sounded strained. Servant felt his eyes shift to the clean crown of scars encircling the other’s forehead, mostly hidden by long locks of black hair. Servant was not so stupid that he didn’t know where they had come from-What operation led to such a scar- He did not like to think of it, instead wanting to lightly trace his fingers over Kamukura’s forehead, to lean down and softly lean his lips against those undeserved scars. Shaking his head free of his indecent thoughts, however, Servant felt himself nod. 

“I’m sorry that someone as hopeful as you must suffer the same ailments someone like myself should have to.” Servant got up, getting a smaller towel and wetting it with cold water, wringing it out the best he could with one hand,

“...” No answer. Servant understood, or he tried to, at least. There was no possible way for a mind as complex, intricate and extravagant as the Ultimate Hope’s to be understood. Not in the fullest, especially not by someone like him.

Brushing away some of the dark strands on Kamukura’s forehead, Servant placed the wet towel on the other, wiping away the sweat. The white-haired teen couldn’t know if they were asleep or not, eyes closed and still as ever, but it wasn’t as though Kamukura didn’t know every single detail about him, every nuanced thought and unfortunate fantasy was not something he had entirely private. Yet again, the ravenette seemed to not care, or not acknowledge it, perhaps they were so used to such thoughts, they’d grown indifferent, emerging from whatever lab they were created in without the ability to care.

Servant wished to help them understand what it was like to truly _feel._ Perhaps he felt like he owed it to them, for the constant tolerance and strange semblance of care the other had always so generously given him. Either way, there was no denying that Kamukura had somehow squashed the writhing despair in Servant’s disease riddled heart. At least, for the most part. He was not going to pretend like the hand still attached to his wrist did not cause the signature pang in his chest when he took off the mitten. The sickening love and hate that was wound so deeply into the existence of Enoshima Junko. He had not truly loved her, he knew that now, too well, but she had disillusioned him into believing that for far too long.

He drew himself out of his reminiscing, back to the small, shabby room they had been saying in. The luckster examined every contour of the other’s face, every mark. The wet towel covered that neatly administered surgical scar, leaving Kamukura looking simply like any other person. Without those glowing red eyes open, chest rising and falling evenly, face flushed with illness, Servant couldn’t help but see how very human the Ultimate Hope looked. Small freckles were littered across Kamukura’s face, tiny imperfections and miniscule blemishes still present. 

Who would have thought that someone Servant had considered so infallible had been brought down by something so very ordinary. With his hand, he lightly brushed hair out of the other’s eyes, running a finger down their cheekbones, knowing the second he did that he’d crossed a line, instantly drawing back to his knees and sighing.

The only thing Kamukura had ever told Servant regarding their personal preferences was to not to be touched. While the other had touched him on multiple occasions, the white-haired man couldn’t pretend like Enoshima hadn’t affected them both. Whatever had happened before, too. Servant couldn’t say he was all that sharp, not compared to Kamukura, at least, but he picked up on things. Noticed them.

Once, before they had travelled together and before a certain pink-haired girl had been so _despairfully_ defeated, Servant had been ‘invited’ to one of Tsumiki’s _performances._ Gruesome acts of medical violence, torture, assault. Servant had seen Kamukura there, Enoshima only a few seats away from them, gushing to them about something or another, when she’d noticed the clinking of his chain, that Cheshire grin widening as she gestured to a seat next to her. 

Kamukura had not enjoyed the performance. Servant had by this point met the Ultimate Hope a few times, though they’d exchanged few words. Even through such little interaction, their demeanor was easy to pick up on, the blank, unending apathy breaking slightly when one of Tsumiki’s ‘patients’ had tried to run, the Ultimate Nurse grabbing such a patient by the arms and plunging a large surgical needle into his veins. The ravenette had not said anything. Instead they’d simply got up and left.

Now that Servant knew better, he knew what that meant. 

Looking down on them once again, Servant stood up, running small errands, trying to make himself useful. The little apartment they now resided in was fairly run down- the water required boiling before use, and while the gas mains still worked, it took a while. The showers worked, though drinking any water from them was out of the question, along with heat.

Preoccupying himself, Servant cleaned and dusted and read some of the books this place had. Then decided to sleep, failing at doing so, still too worried about the other to rest. A day passed, where Kamukura slept and woke, Servant deciding to attempt to make them both something that resembled soup. He had watched Kamukura enough that he most likely remembered how to cook, though he really didn’t trust his disease-riddled brain to recall specifics. They became lost to him fair too quickly.

The other had only eaten a fraction, going back to sleep again.

At some point on the second day, Servant got a small twinge in his gut. Nothing concerning, but he felt it similar to dread. He’d just finished making a second, hopefully better soup, and though the quality was probably questionable, it would hopefully suffice. Kamukura generally didn’t tend to care. Servant still secretly hoped that they would find something within the gesture.

So, instead of attempting to garnish his sub-par meal, he followed the twinge present in his gut, all the way into the small bedroom.

_Ah._ This is what his luck wanted for him to see. 

Kamukura was not awake, eyes still closed, but it didn’t discount that they were shaking, tucked up in a small ball, breathing heavy and desperate. Servant didn’t know how to react, didn’t know how to respond to such a sight. Were they having a nightmare? Fever dream? Less than a few days ago, Servant wasn’t even sure Kamukura had weakness, now he was looking at them trembling like a leaf.

“Kamukura-san?” Servant asked hesitantly, though he knew that his voice was much too quiet to do anything, but this newfound feeling of fear for the other’s safety stopped him from reaching out and shaking them out of whatever dream that was plaguing them. “Kamukura-san!” Servant repeated, raising his tone.

Those eyes shot open, the bloody crimson with the small target symbol, gaze zeroing in on the luckster. Almost frantically, they scanned over him, a hand coming out and grabbing Servant’s wrist (of his own hand, not hers.) It took a minute to register. _Kamukura was willingly touching him._ Though, he couldn’t afford to indulge in such thoughtless desires, the other was his priority.

“Are you okay? Ah… you were shaking” Servant stumbled over words “You’re still shaking. Haha. Did something happen?”

“I…” Kamukura couldn’t answer properly as they hung their head, still breathing hard. The grip on Servant’s wrist was fairly tight, but at least it wasn’t painful. It felt desperate. 

“You don’t need to tell me, I’m just your servant, but if I can help, or do _anything,_ please do tell me.” Servant said, smiling as he tugged lightly on his hand. Surely Kamukura couldn’t stand touching him like this, his sickly, dying body. Though, the second that he tried this, the other looked up at him, that stare freezing him in his attempt to free himself

“Komaeda.” Kamukura rasped “ _Stay._ ”

~~Nagito’s~~ _Servant’s_ eyes widened. He wasn’t often called by name, so he carefully knelt down beside the bed, gazing imploringly at Kamukura, who’s breathing was calming down, however, the shaking was not.

“What happened?” Servant prompted. No regular event could phase the other like this, no regular nightmare could shake them to the degree this had

“Enoshima combined with severe fever. Which has now broken.” Kamukura said, back to their regular droll, eyes focusing again. Servant sighed. Of course. He still felt the decaying flesh of that girl on his wrist, still remembered the cherry flavoured lipstick that she wore, the sickly perfume. No detail of her escaped him. He _hated_ it. The impulse to get the medical scissors and cut those flimsy stitches were ever present. Servant couldn’t tell if it was an intrusive thought or a rational one. 

“Ah, I see. My apologies for asking.”

“You have done nothing wrong.” Kamukura closed their eyes, releasing Servant from their grip, sighing softly. “... I should be the one offering an apology. You are distressed”

Servant blinked. Kamukura was _apologising?_ To him? 

“Oh! Please, don’t think for a second that I’m worth apologising to. Please don’t waste precious breath on me, or my trivial thoughts. I’m not even sure as to what you’re apologising for! Haha…” Servant trailed off, but he knew that the other would have tuned out long before he stopped talking.

“Your constant deprecating is boring.” Is what he got instead, which shut the luckster up smartly.

He nodded, though not making a move to leave, leaning his head against the wooden frame of the bed, fiddling with the chain still residing around his neck. Kamukura had suggested removing it multiple times, but Servant had consistently refused. Who was he if he had no chain to show for it? It didn’t matter that blood crusted around the cold metal from all of the chafing, the constant discomfort inconsequential compared to the feeling of utter ecstasy from being pulled around. 

Though, that too, had not happened for a while. _She_ had loved treating Servant as some glorified pet, which, in all honesty, wasn’t so far from the truth. Kamukura, however, did not. There was no gain as to why the other had kept him for so long. It made Servant question why he was even here. Why he still remained living, when he no longer seemed to serve a purpose… it was something that completely escaped him.

Soon, the strangest sensation overtook him. There was a hand in his hair. Not daring to look up or even shift his position, not really needing to anyway, it took a considerable amount of effort to keep the shock out of his face. Even more effort when the hand started delicately carding through the fluffy white mess that was Servant’s hair.

_The Ultimate Hope was willingly patting him. Kamukura Izuru was petting him._

It was shameful, the amount of joy that brought him. Joy and also confusion, questions overtaking his already teeming mind. Was it simply because he was there? Was it because they didn’t have to ask? Was it delirium from the fever? (no… Kamukura had said it had broken, however) There was no logical way to explain it. 

_The person that Servant loved most in this stupid despair-ridden world was now voluntarily touching him._

Someone who Servant had seen kill without hesitation or any sort of remorse was now softly patting him. How _ridiculous._ Perhaps Servant was ill, perhaps this was some strange psychotic state he’d been induced into. Because none of what had happened the past few days made any sense.   
  


It was getting so bizarre that Servant was having to form a mental list- Kamukura had gotten sick; They had openly shown emotions; they had apologised; and now, they were caressing someone who was supposed to be their _Servant!?_

Even so, sitting there in complete silence, this moment felt ever so strangely intimate. Servant could only hypothesise as to why that was. Was it that… had Kamukura been in the wrong hands the last time they’d been unwell? Had something happened? Was this a sign of trust? 

Ah, how Servant wished he had the same deduction skills the other had. 

Perhaps, in the only time Servant could have ever taken any sort of power over the Ultimate Hope, he had not. Though, he wished they realised how even if he wanted to, he _couldn’t._ Only if they specifically asked him to, Servant would not lay a finger on them.

But, maybe they _knew_ that he didn’t want to. That if he was stripped back down to his bare bones of individuality that even then, he would not make any move to harm the other. 

How very confusing! Servant decided to just relax into the touch anyway, feeling his muscles loosen. His selfish desires were coming true, after all, slumping against the bed frame, not caring at how uncomfortable it was. Kamukura was so _warm._ Unlike from when they were feverish, it wasn’t an uncomfortable temperature. Someone who came across so cold, so apathetic and closed off also being someone who ran hot came as a strange parallel. The other’s heat translated into him, like a pleasant heat pack. For someone as cold and clammy as he was, he was truly so lucky to be experiencing this. Human warmth wasn’t something Servant had experienced for… well. He couldn’t even remember anymore. This was the first time he’d been touched with harmless intentions in the time he could remember. Perhaps that should make him sad. 

Though, really, it just made him even more happy he was here now. Those hands slid down through his hair, down to his neck.

The moment abruptly ended when Kamukura spoke, stopping the oddly comforting motion.

  
“Your chain.” Their voice caused Servant to whip his head around, the chain in question clinking, almost in a surprised fashion

“Ah… what is it?” Servant replied, feeling instantly guilty for ripping Kamukura’s hand out of his hair. Not that they seemed any different from it. The unhealthy flush wasn’t as bad, though the lack of it made the deep shadows under the other’s eyes obvious.

“Why do you leave it on? Your neck is bleeding.” Kamukura mused, seemingly curious. They’d told him in the past that the reason why they asked questions was not that they didn’t know, but it was similar to a hypothesis- a very educated guess. To have it proven or denied. So, of course, the white-haired man complied.

“I… I do not know who I am without it.” Servant admitted after a while, ashamed that his reason was so pathetic

“Who are you with it?”

  
The white-haired man blinked. He was Servant, right? But… who was that even? Just a sickly teenager playing dress up? Because he… well… he hadn’t been treated like a servant for far too long. Not practicing what he preached, huh? The only part of him he could properly solidify was luck.

“Asking a question like that would be akin to asking you ‘who would you be without your talents’” The luckster mumbled, not really thinking his words through. He was so _confused._

“I would be Hinata Hajime,” Kamukura replied bluntly, staring the other down “I would be no one.”

That name. Nanami had mentioned it before, once, when they’d first encountered the Ultimate Hope. It was the only time in which the ravenette had uttered it. The weight it came with left the lucky student speechless. Too many things were happening. 

So, when that laughter bubbled out of him, it was near impossible to hold it back, disturbed giggles erupting out of the pale teen. Kamukura said nothing. They knew that he found no humor in this past sick irony. The eerie cacophony of cackles being the only sound in the apartment. Kamukura simply watched, waiting for his reply, sitting up, movements still appearing sluggish.

“What is the difference between Komaeda Nagito and The Servant?” Kamukura asked once the other had recovered. He had been bleeding, and as the luckster drew his hand away from his throat, it was dotted in red. A broken chuckle came from that too.

“Haha… I couldn’t say. I don’t even have a name in my head anymore. How sad is that?” He replied, voice breaking on every few syllables. “I suppose Komaeda Nagito did not cut off his hand and replace it with that of a dead girl’s, didn’t he?” 

“No. He did not.” Kamukura echoed, which surprised the lucky student. Though it surprised him more when the other kept talking “But he is next to me right now.”

Heart beating hard and feeling a flush creep up his neck, Nagito _(Nagito. That was his name)_ hung his head so his face wasn’t seen. It felt alien. Confirming that old name back in his head felt like reclaiming something that had been lost. Which was true, if he thought about it. It had been lost, to two years of despair. To another name and a girl with pink hair.

“Kamukura-san…” Nagito breathed “Why are you doing this for me? I’m supposed to be your servant… not whatever this is. I don’t deserve it”

They seemed to think about the question, closing their eyes

“I have come to care about you. I do not know how, seeing I was created supposedly without the ability to truly feel. But there is something more than boredom regarding you. Something that is not despair, or pain.” Kamukura said, Nagito not too sure if their voice was thick from being ill or from the obviously emotionally charged words. 

“Ah.” For some reason the lucky student felt tears begin to pool in his eyes, attempting to slide down his cheeks, trying to wipe them away with little success. “I-I don’t know how to respond”

Kamukura hummed slightly, “Turn around.”

Nagito did as they asked, sitting up on the floor and turning to face away from the bed. 

“The collar.” It wasn’t really a question, more a request of confirmation

“Please… take it off,” Nagito replied. Another hum, fingers working quietly through the lock until a click sounded and that thin silver band accompanied with that chain fell into his lap. It was crusted in blood and his neck predictably stung. There would be permanent scarring, Nagito was sure of that. But he was free from that part of him. Free from whoever Servant had been. The only remnant of her now… the hand. 

“I will dress your wounds once I have slept.” Kamukura sighed, laying their head onto the pillow. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Of course, the other was still unwell. Nagito couldn’t forget that. 

Wiping his eyes again, he got an utterly stupid idea (The other wouldn’t like that…) But... Kamukura couldn’t stop him or help him, not when they were asleep. He needed to finish the job. The collar. Now the hand. His neck burned, not used to having the chilly air on it. But it was okay, he was okay. Reaching the bathroom, the luckster looked on his battered body, taking off the mitten and jacket, giving a dismaying glance to the chafed, bleeding and bruised band that resided there. Nothing to pull, yank or tie, however. Just (very damaged) human skin. 

Nagito knew Kamukura had specifically asked him to not do anything stupid, but this really didn’t _feel_ stupid. It felt logical, even. It was decaying flesh, it would fulfil a personal need and a physical one. It would finally detach him from despair, finally allow him some semblance of freedom from _her._

So, getting the medical kit and taking off that worn out sweater, the lucky student started snipping at every single messy stitching mark, the scissors making quick work over it. It didn’t hurt, though it shouldn’t be surprising- that hand was never his to begin with. Slowly but surely, it started coming off the stump of his forearm. It hurt now. He hadn’t expected it to start hurting. Though, if he’d managed to cut off his real hand, he could surely get rid of one that wasn’t even his. Maybe it hurt because it was Enoshima’s despair desperately trying to cling to him, even now, quite a time after her death. Tears leaked from his eyes, those memories trying to flow back to him. 

He kept calm, however, whenever those icy blue eyes infiltrated his thoughts too much, he would envision them being red instead, belonging entirely to someone else. Long pink pigtails mentally being replaced by long, flowing deep brown hair. _Snip, snip, snip._ One by one. It was disgusting. The red nails, pale, dead skin facing those grey eyes. Truly despairful, no?

And just like that, it came off; Landed brutally in the sink. It made Nagito sick, putting the mitten on his still-existing hand and picking it up gingerly. He could just throw it out onto the street, right? Dogs would probably enjoy it. There was a surplus of mutts around- random survivors of families killed by despair. It seemed bitterly ironic that after being a dog to her for so many years, that same person was now being fed to them. Chuckling darkly, Nagito threw it out into the street below, watching as the canines came out quickly. He turned around before they ate it. Just the knowledge that she was truly gone from him was enough. 

The remaining stump of his forearm wasn’t in fantastic state. It was bleeding from the torn and cut stitches, Nagito removing the sutures with tweezers and wincing as each came out bloody. The skin around it, besides from that, seemed surprisingly healthy. Moving it around without the knowledge that a dead girl’s hand was there happened to be rather pleasant, prompting small giggles as Nagito moved it back and forward, no hand remaining there anymore. No collar, no hand. 

To think that this was all kickstarted by Kamukura getting sick. It was almost ridiculous to think of it. Though, since she died, maybe this had been brewing slowly. The prospect of hope returning to him. Love and happiness and being less alone gradually seeping back into his life. 

Disinfecting and sloppily bandaging his stump, he folded up his jacket sleeve so it didn’t flop around. He wasn’t going to try and disinfect his neck, not when he could barely disinfect his hand. He was shaking too much from excitement. There was a future laying out for the luckster, it was there! One with Kamukura, no less. An opportunity, albeit a small and rather diminished one, of having a life. Perhaps if they were caught, the Future Foundation would spare them both. Out of the despairs, they were both the least problematic. Nagito had been more than useless. Enoshima had liked to play with him more than anything. The other’s had been much more useful for spreading despair. Nagito and Kamukura had served the girl’s more _personal_ endeavors. 

But… there wasn’t much use worrying about her anymore. Tiptoeing lightly into the bedroom, Nagito laid his head on the side of the bed, on the mattress, glancing adoringly up at the other. He wished for Kamukura to get better soon… while the fluffy-haired teen didn’t mind caring for the other (he _adored it_ ), they couldn’t do anything when one of them was incapacitated. 

His arm stung a little, but not in any unbearable way… the throb was almost more therapeutic, lulling. Nagito hadn’t slept much as of late, too anxious from Kamukura’s ailments to get more than a few hours of rest, so perhaps his eyelids slowly drooping shut was inevitable, the comedown from such an adrenaline rush leaving him simply exhausted.

The dreams that Nagito had were a strange mix… hope and despair… he couldn’t make out anything past flashes of red and blue, soft hands with a rough pull, rough hands with a soft touch. His sleeping position was rather uncomfortable, so when he felt movement above, whatever semblance of sleep the luckster had been having evaporated. Turning around, expectantly looking up at who was supposed to be the person he served, he felt guilt pool in his stomach.

  
Right… after being asked to not do anything stupid, Nagito had done a home amputation job of a dead limb. 

Red eyes stared him down, looking a lot more awake than before as they narrowed slightly

“Your arm.”

“... I’m so sorry. I’m so useless, aren’t I? You asked me to do one thing and I couldn’t, I’m so terribly sorry for this. Are you going to kick me out-”

“I had predicted this to occur. Get up, I must disinfect it properly.” Kamukura wrinkled their nose at the dull antiseptic smell, probably one of the more expressive faces they’d made. Nagito blinked in surprise

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Nagito said quietly

“I am… glad it is gone, regardless of how.” The other’s gaze shifted to the stump that Nagito’s arm now was “Take off your shirt.”

Complying dutifully, taking off the layers of shirts and jacket, Nagito was left cold in his remaining grey singlet, desperately wanting his striped sweater back. The air was always chilly, in despair.

He’d somehow forgotten how warm Kamukura’s hands were as they unwound the sloppy bandages, cleaning and much more professionally disinfecting the bleeding stump. It wasn’t painful, and before long, there was a very clean bandaging job, Nagito testing out the movability and smiling.

“Thank you… I don’t know why you waste your talents on me, but thank you.”

“I am not finished.” Kamukura deflected, moving onto his neck, Nagito hissing a little at the burn the antiseptic gave as they continued to work on dressing the wounds on his neck.

Soon, he was left with two sets of bandages, on his neck and his arm, no blood in sight, no pain lancing it’s way through his body.

“... How am I supposed to repay you for this?” Nagito mumbled, “There’s nothing that someone like me could do that would even equate to you looking in my way, let alone caring for me.”

“You have already repaid me.” Kamukura replied “Your deprecating is dull.”

“Sorry.” Nagito didn’t want to annoy the other, so he kept quiet

“Mm.” Kamukura stood, exiting the room, gesturing for Nagito to follow after he’d layered up once again. 

The Ultimate Hope led the pair up flights of stairs, obviously to the top of the apartment block. It was becoming later in the day now, the sky turning orange as they made it to the small space on top of the building. It overlooked much of the ruined and crumbling city, many of the buildings ravaged, left empty. No people were in sight past the very, very rare light on in a distant residential lot. 

It was beautiful, looking out onto that city. Tiny specks of green were trying to poke their ways through cement and acid rain, dotting in the oddest places.

Kamukura sat on a large slab of concrete, gazing out onto what they were somewhat responsible for. Nagito sat next to them, hesitantly. Even if he were no longer a servant, there was a deeply rooted feeling of being lesser, a knowledge that he could never, ever equate to what deep, incredible power that Kamukura Izuru possessed. 

Though, right now, he didn’t feel that power gripping him, calling to him to submit and worship. What called to him now was Kamukura themselves. Something bothered him about what Kamukura had said before.

_“Asking a question like that would be akin to asking you ‘who would you be without your talents’” The luckster had mumbled_

_“I would be Hinata Hajime,” Kamukura replied bluntly, staring the other down “I would be no one.”_

What had that meant? Was that true? 

“You seem a lot better. You recovered fast… which I’m truly glad for, really.” Nagito smiled, Kamukura humming in an affirming way

“As have you.” Red eyes shifted in Nagito’s direction as they continued “I had not predicted for you to be drawn out of despair so soon.”

“You enabled that change, Kamukura-san. I wouldn’t be at this point without your kindness and endless leniency towards scum like me.”

“...”

Nagito sighed. He’d been self-deprecating, something that made him more boring and dull. How did the other not find him anything more than that? It perplexed him. Though, confusion had been something rather rampant in the luckster’s head for a while now. 

“You are dancing around something. What is it?” Kamukura narrowed their eyes slightly as Nagito shifted awkwardly. Hiding anything from the other was impossible.

“You mentioned someone when we were speaking… Um. Hinata Hajime. Who are they? Are they you…?”

“Hinata was the person who originally inhabited this body. He was, to my knowledge, a reserve course student who had been coerced into signing his body away to be experimented on.” Kamukura informed, in potentially the longest sentence they’d spoken to Nagito. 

… A reserve course student. When Kamukura had said they had been nothing, they had not been lying. A _reserve_ had been created into who he now spoke to. Though… Nagito felt a sick feeling in his stomach. Coercion and experimentation in any sentence was bad. 

Along with that, he remembered a sliver of something, a beginning of a memory. Nanami had been friends with a reserve… Had recognised Kamukura when they’d first met. 

Just who had Hinata Hajime been? 

“I’m assuming Hinata-kun is…?”

“Somewhere deep in my subconscious, presumably. I am not certain. Maybe he is closer than I first predicted, seeing that I have experienced more emotion as of late. I have only heard him once, and at that time I had failed to recognise that voice to be him”

“... When?”

“Nanami’s death.”

Ah… He squeezed his eyes shut, shoving out the scene of his only friend getting speared through the stomach, again, _again--_ Taking a deep breath, Nagito steadied himself. He couldn’t relapse, not right now. 

“You are distressed…” Kamukura observed, “We shall not continue this conversation.”

“May I ask one more question?” Nagito croaked 

“Yes.”

“If Hinata-kun ever comes back… will you still be here too?” 

“I do not know. However, if that does happen, you will have to be prepared to lose me.” Kamukura warns “Unlike Hinata, I was never born. I was not given humanity, or a will to live. I was not given a personality. I am only talent.”

“I don’t agree with that.” Nagito said quickly, instantly regretting it, but continuing on anyway “You have humanity, I’m sure of it. If you were inhuman, you would have discarded me a long time ago, or used me, like I really should’ve been. But you haven’t.” He took a breath “Someone inhuman wouldn’t dress my wounds and touch me so gently”

“... Perhaps.”

They sat there for a while, the sunset now reflecting off the window panes of the surrounding buildings. It was hard to see the permanent red sky when the sun set, the sky turning bloody shades of orange and yellow and purple as the sun began to dip slowly beneath the horizon. It reflected on the other’s face. Nagito had seen just how human Kamukura was in the past few days. How wrong they were to assume they weren’t anything else. Dark hair pooled around them, and Nagito wanted nothing more than to envelop them into a hug.

“May I touch you?” Nagito inquired, after mustering up a considerable amount of courage

“Yes.”

Shocked and happy at the answer he received, Nagito shuffled over, placing his head on Kamukura’s shoulder and sighing softly at the pleasant heat radiating off the other. 

“Thank you.” Nagito muttered, flushing as he looked out onto the city. Kamukura did not reply, though an arm was wrapped around his waist, making Nagito flinch in shock. This felt _romantic._ His brain was screaming at him to stop, to run and not come back because he didn’t deserve any of this because he was such a terrible person… but for now, that didn’t seem to equate to the love-drunk euphoria he was experiencing right now, in the arms of the Ultimate Hope.

As the sun set, Nagito knew that this was the best luck he’d probably ever get. A second chance of being Komaeda Nagito, an opportunity to be with Kamukura, and to be held by them. 

He wondered if Kamukura could have predicted a sickness turning into something like this.

For the first time in the years he’d known Kamukura, he doubted it.

**Author's Note:**

> Bruh this is probably a mess. Oh well!  
> Izuru is a very difficult character to write for me because they represent a lot of very difficult personal things to me. I love them very much nonetheless
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading! have a lovely day :)
> 
> come talk to me on IG @yeetbixed


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